


What Friends Are (Not) For

by cmshaw



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-10-31
Updated: 2000-10-31
Packaged: 2017-10-08 06:30:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cmshaw/pseuds/cmshaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Girls. Quidditch. Blowjobs. Y'know, guy stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Friends Are (Not) For

"What do you think about?" Ron asked.

Harry looked over at his friend. Ron was stretched out on his side, one of the pillows tucked under the point of his hip. His robe was still open, and it draped across the length of his body. He had grown again over the summer, and the robe seemed tiny on him, as if his chest were too broad and his legs too long to be held back by the thin black fabric. Harry followed the march of freckles up Ron's thighs and asked, "What do I think about what?"

Ron shifted, as if he felt Harry's eyes on him. "When we -- you know."

Harry shrugged. "Oh, I don't know," he said.

"You think about Cho?"

Harry pulled his gaze away from the line of red-gold hairs that ran down the center of Ron's chest. He rolled over on his stomach, clutching another of the pillows to his chest, and kicked idly at the bottom of his own robe as he thought about it. "Yeah, sometimes, I guess," he said. It wasn't exactly a lie, since he did fantasize about her on occasion. Oddly enough, it was more exciting to picture the other Seeker's pretty smile when he was doing for Ron than when Ron was doing for him. He added, "Mostly I just think, 'Whoa, that feels good!'"

They laughed together. "I think about Fleur lots," Ron confessed.

"I know," Harry said drily. "You practically chant it. 'Fleur, Fleur, Fleur!'" He pitched his voice to imitate Ron's breathless cries, the ones he made when Harry closed his mouth around the head of his dick and sucked hard. Harry laughed again, and Ron joined him, sounding a little embarrassed. When they stopped, Harry asked, "Do you ever think about anyone else?"

Ron shrugged. "Sometimes. Or, you know, her and someone else both."

"What, at the same time?" Harry asked, and Ron glanced away and back, smiling a little smugly. "You ever think about Hermione?"

"What?" Ron jerked upright and stared at Harry. "No! God, that's, that's -- that's awful, is what it is."

Harry raised his hands defensively. "Okay, not Hermione. Sorry I asked."

Ron was still glaring. "_You_ don't think about 'Mione, do you?" he demanded suspiciously.

"No, no, no," Harry said quickly. "I just wondered if you did, that's all."

"Well, I don't," Ron snapped, but he settled back down, punching the pillow to get it comfortably arranged.

"It's just," Harry said tentatively, "that you got so upset when she was dating Viktor Krum that I thought you might have been--"

"I wasn't," Ron said loudly.

"Okay," Harry said again.

"Hermione's not that kind of girl," Ron said. "Nobody'd better think of her like that." He scowled, looking ready to jump up and pummel anyone who dared think such thoughts.

"She's our friend," Harry said.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, exactly."

"But we're friends too," Harry continued.

"So?" Ron asked.

"So? So we're kind of here, thinking like that," and he gestured vaguely between the two of them, half-naked on the floor.

"That's different," Ron said. "We're not -- I mean, we're guys, we understand what -- this isn't _that_ sort of thing, we're just helping each other out."

"Right," Harry said, "of course." He rolled over on his back and stared up at the ceiling, twitching his robes over his legs. The sun was no longer slanting directly in the windows and it was getting a bit chilly. "I don't really think about Cho all that much," he admitted. "I mean, I can't really imagine her doing -- well, I just see her on the Quidditch field, you know?" He looked over at Ron.

Ron grinned wickedly at him. "I can imagine Fleur doing all sorts of things," he said.

Harry ignored the interruption. "It's that, er, she's pretty, right, but she's not really very different from Betsy or even Draco." Betsy Jenkins was the new Hufflepuff Seeker; she was a second year.

"Ew," Ron said. "You have a thing for Seekers, Harry?"

Grinning, Harry teased, "I have to admit, Krum was awfully handsome in a bushy-eyebrowed kind of way."

Ron sat bolt upright again. "Harry!"

"I'm just kidding," Harry said.

"'S not funny," Ron muttered. "That's gross."

"Who, Krum? You're the one who wanted his autograph," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah, but not because -- I wanted his autograph because I like Quidditch, that's all, okay?"

"Right," Harry said, thoroughly confused, "of course."

"All right, then," Ron said.

Harry let his eyes slide back down Ron's body. "You wanna go again?" he asked.

Ron thought about it for a minute. "Sure," he said. He rolled over onto his back and pushed his robe out of the way. Harry licked his lips as Ron ran his hands slowly down his chest. Lying back, Harry reached down and wrapped his hand around his own dick. Gently, he pulled at it, watching through narrowed eyes as Ron did the same. Ron's eyes were closed; his head was tipped back and he was breathing evenly through parted lips. Harry let his gaze linger on the line of Ron's throat, on the sweat beading up again on his chest, on the hard-on sliding in and out of Ron's fist, bright red against the paleness of his stomach.

Then he thought of something. Curious, Harry closed his eyes and tried to picture Viktor Krum. He had had several chances to see Viktor up close during the Triwizard Tournament, but it was the Seeker's flying in the Ireland/Bulgaria World Cup which Harry remembered now. The aggression of it, the power -- he knew what it felt like to fly like that, the broomstick between one's legs and under one's hands merely an extension of the body (Harry's hand moved faster over his hard-on, and he moaned softly). He saw Viktor as his opponent, mirroring his every move, the two of them straining to reach it, bodies pressed together, hurtling through the air, seeking-- touching-- winning, yes, do it, take it--

Groaning in surprise, Harry lifted his hips off the floor and thrust, hard, into his hand. His fingers closed convulsively, and he jerked roughly at himself, trying to catch and hold the pleasure that washed out of him in quick, trembling spasms. He sighed and slumped back down. Viktor Krum. Who knew? He wasn't sure, but he didn't think that Ron would want to hear what he'd been imagining while he touched himself just now.

Harry rolled his head to the side and opened his eyes. Ron was still stroking his hand up and down slowly, but he had his eyes open again. He grinned at Harry. "Done so fast?" he said.

"Yeah," Harry said, and then, "I was thinking about a certain Seeker."

Ron chuckled. "Well, send her over here with me and Fleur, okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said again. He watched Ron's thumb rub across the tip of his dick, around and around, and then he pushed himself up and crawled over to Ron. Ron lifted his hand away and allowed Harry's hand to take its place; his hard-on burned against Harry's palm. Harry bent his head and sucked the tip of Ron's dick into his mouth.

Ron didn't much like doing this for him, but he did it anyway; Ron was a good friend. Harry liked doing it. The taste was warm and the heat was burning and the whole idea was exciting, thrilling, forbidden. The only time he'd said this to Ron, Ron had looked at him like he was crazy.

He wondered if Viktor Krum would do something like this for him, then wished he hadn't. It wasn't like he'd actually ever get the chance to do this with Hermione's sort-of-not-anymore boyfriend (and why would it matter about Hermione anyway?). Anyway, doing this for real, with someone other than Ron, would be too weird. He didn't even want to think about it.

He concentrated on Ron. Ron was panting now, hands rubbing nervously on his thighs, and Harry slid his tongue around in his mouth and rubbed faster at Ron's dick. "Fleur," Ron moaned. His hips rose and Harry sucked hard. "Fleur, oh Fleur, yesssss...ah!"

Harry pulled his mouth away as Ron came, still whimpering Fleur's name. He pulled his robes around until he could dig his handkerchief out of a pocket to wipe his lips and chin clean.

When he had caught his breath, Ron sat up and smiled at him. "Thanks," he said.

"Sure," Harry said. "Anytime." After all, that's what friends were for.


End file.
